


Tales from the Rot & Ruin

by Alanna_Z



Category: Rot & Ruin Series - Jonathan Maberry
Genre: Crying, Dystopian, Escape, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Nudity, Post-Apocalypse, Reunions, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 21:11:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20973128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alanna_Z/pseuds/Alanna_Z
Summary: This is an anthology of short stories that explore my OC Kassandra's and Tom's journey through the years after First Night.





	Tales from the Rot & Ruin

Kassandra Jacobson was trapped.

That alone was assured.

She huddled her trembling body in the center of the dank, cold room, surrounded by dank, cold concrete walls. The floor, if it could be called that, was just a hard pact, earthen surface, with bits of old concrete still settled into the ground in the corner, the last remains of what was once a cellar floor. The pieces were upheaved and dull, covered in years of dust and dirt, bits of mildew and mould growing on the man make stone. The smell of rot and mildew wafted through the humid, heavy air, staining her nostrils as she hugged her knees to her bruised chest.

She panted in the darkness, no light gracing the interior of her hellish cell. Her blue-grey eyes were trained on the door, watching and waiting. Her chest was tight with anticipation, an anticipation that sent spikes of fear through her being as her hear raced behind her breastbone.

Nothing could be worse than this hell.

She had been here for God knows how long, sitting in the cell, naked for most of the time, rarely given a white tee-shirt to cover herself, or fighting in zom pits and haunted houses. She was a crowd favourite, young, lean, with blond hair and lovely Scandinavian features. However, her looks were deceiving. She may have looked like a delicate flower from the fjords of Norway, but when cornered, she could take down a zom without any weapon in her hand.

And _they_ were exploiting her talents.

They being the Motor City Hammer and Charlie Matthias.

The two men were hulking brutes, thick with muscle and leather, and smelt of gun-power and death. The Hammer was a neck-less mass that was brooding and dark, silent as a statue most of the time and with a face so scared that it looked like a road map of LA. But the real monster was his partner.

Charlie Pink-Eye stood more than six feet tall, an albino with buzzed blonde hair and a glinting blue eye that was a sharp as a viper’s tooth. His other eye was milky pink, dead, with a hard scar running through it. He was ugly and devious, always eyeing Kassandra with lusting eyes and murderous intent as she fought down in the pits. And when drunk, he acted on the urge, coming into her cell and raping her raw.

She would scream and fight, clawing at his big chest, skin and white hair caught under her broken nails. He would tug at her long, silky hair, pulling her head back and forcing her to look up at him.

Until she spit in his eye.

From then on, he had grown accustomed to forcing her face into the dirt, holding her head down and her ass up, her intimate and vulnerable sex exposed to him completely.

He violated her mercilessly. Shattered her soul. Burned away her innocence.

Kass shivered, her heart swelling with panic as she thought about it. She continued to watch the door, paranoid, terror filling her slowly. Charlie could walk in at any moment and rape her again. Or it would be her turn in the pits, fighting zoms and slashed with cold water. She huffed in breath quietly, her eyes glowering at the door, her ears alert for any noise.

She listened intently for any footsteps, heavy or light, the sign that she was about to go out and fight again, thrown into the pits or forced into an old haunted house with chained zoms hidden around with the fake ones.

In there, the lines between the real and the fake blurred. Mannequins done up to look like zombies peppered the old haunted house, a ghost from an era when the idea was harmless, and zombies were nothing but fantasy meant to give people cheap scares. Now, they were a distraction, a tactic used to confuse and unsettle. One moment it was a mannequin jumping at you, the next, it was a real zom, wanting to feed its hunger. Some couldn’t tell the difference, and they lost with their lives.

Kass tried to be better than that, but sometimes it wasn’t easy. The place was dark, with black lights and faint lighting and UV bulbs the only means of guidance. The shadows hid everything well, and the only differences between real and fake was the moans.

But even that was being faked now.

Recordings played in the halls, recordings of the moaning dead, and they rang through the haunted house, taking away any accurate sense of hearing that the participant held, making it more likely for them to make mistakes and die a horrible death.

So far, Kassandra had been lucky. She reacted fast when a real zom lashed at her, and watched the mouths. The mouths were the tell, snapping and hungry. As accurate as mannequins could be, they couldn’t open their mouths, and so Kass had to watch and make quick decisions on the fly.

The sound of heavy foot falls snapped Kass from her thoughts, her eyes darted for a moment, searching the echoing room for any sign of movement before the iron door swung open with a loud squeal.

“Alright then, girly,” said the heavyset man standing in the doorway. “Time for another round.”

He was flanked by two skinny men, each armed with catch poles. They stepped into the room, pawing they way forward, herding the young woman into a corner.

She bared her teeth and growled at them, feral and savage as a rabid dog.

It didn’t deter them, they kept advancing, even as Kass tried to jump them, crouching and lunging for them. They swatted her out of the way with their poles, smirking each time she winced with a cry of pain. They smacked at her breasts and thighs, giggling as the welts turned purple.

Their captive growled in frustration, shrieking when they got the loops over her head and around her neck. They synched the wires tight, even as Kass clawed at them, trying to pull herself free, and pulled her up, nearly choking her and bruising the skin of her neck.

“Get moving, you little bitch,” one of the skinny men snarled. “Tonight’s your night!”

Kass just spit in his eye.

“I bet 200 ration bucks that the zoms get her tonight,” the other said, smirking, as he trusted the pole forward, jerking the young woman forward.

“I bet 300 that she kills every single one,” the other commented, chuckling as he helped the other push Kass forward and out of the cell.

“Nah!” the other cried. “There’s too many! Guss, how many zoms are in the house tonight?”

The big man bristled and grunted. “Fifteen. Her record is ten.”

One skinny man whistled. “Five more. I don’t know man, that’s a lot for such a small place.”

The other rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man, she’s wild enough to do it.”

The men continued walking, pushing Kassandra out in front of them. The big guy trailed behind, the keys on his belt swaying and clinking with every step, while the other two used the catch poles to steer and direct their captive out of the cellar where they held all the captives.

The stairs were slippery and wet as Kass climbed up, it had rained hours before and left the steps muddy with boot prints. The cement fell away, the stairs spilling out into a grassy field, slick and wet from the rain. On the other side was an old amusement park, the huge Ferris wheel arching up into the sky, its lights bright pink and blue, flashing in the night. Lights of every colour lit up the whole place, with holes and pits dug out in spots with bleachers for spectators.

Even more panic and fear swelled inside Kass’s chest, but so did hate. She hated this place. She hated everything about it, the cheap parlour tricks, the fighting, the gambling, everything. It was vile and sinister, violating what once was fun and innocent.

She stole a glance behind her.

A cabin stood there, the top of the stairs in the center of an empty cellar door. Overhead was a sign, crudely painted with the word “contestants” bolted into the wooden wall. The windows were clean, with the exception of a few smudges, and each one was lit up from the inside.

But no one was looking out.

Kass heard the thunder of laughing and the clanking of glasses inside. No one was paying attention to what was happening just a few feet away.

She looked around. A chain link fence separated the amusement park from the fair sized cabin, the only entrance being the gates to the right, a painted sign standing above with the blocked letters spelling out “Gameland.” Lights lit up a pathway that sprawled away from the front door of the cabin. Carriages and horses stood in front of the cabin, tied to a makeshift corral and the animals puffed gently into the night air.

One the other side of the fence was another gate. The gate where the victims entered, shrouded darkness.

That gate spelt terror and death for Kass.

She stopped, the catchpole tugging at her skin.

“Hey!” One of the skinny men called out. “Get moving!”

Kass stayed firm.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he snarled, shaking his pole. “I said: Move it, bitch!”

She didn’t move. “No.”

“You little whore,” the big man in the back said, stalking forward, pushing the other two aside. He came up behind her and grabbed a fistful of her silver hair. “You don’t get to talk back.”

He thrust her forward, his lips twisted in a snarl. The poles jerked in the hands of the two skinny men, their grips loosened.

Kristen gripped one pole and shoved it forward, breaking it from the grasp of the man holding it. He cussed, scrambling to get it back, but it was too late.

Kristen slackened the tight wire around her neck in the blind of an eye, turning on the balls of her feet, the pole firmly in her hands, poised to strike.

I made contact with the fat man’s face, a loud _twack!_ echoing in the air. He screeched, cussing as his nose poured blood down his face, his eyes watering.

“You fucking bitch!” he squealed, dragging his forearms over his face. “Fuck the pits, your end comes now!”

He stormed forward, his red face scrunched in rage. The young woman braced and planted her pole in his belly, stealing the wind form his sails. He squawked, his face now blue, as he dropped to his knees.

The final wire around Kass’ neck tightened, still in the grip of one of the skinny men. She gritted her teeth, standing up, even as the tight cord dug into her skin, pressing against her windpipe. She slapped his hand with the metal pole she had, feeling relief as she threw off the controlling device and eyeing the men with wild eyes.

He didn’t last more than two minutes.

She left him lying in the wet grass with the others, their faces frozen in permanent shock and bewilderment.

She took off into the forest, melting into the shadows and running as fast as her long legs could carry her through the forest. Her bare feet hit the spongy ground, leaping over boulders and weaving through the underbrush. Her breath condensed into small clouds in front of her, her lungs huffing the night air in and out, her muscles tense, flexing and pushing. She didn’t stop for anything. Dark shapes and shadows moved past her, blurred and unreadable. They may have been zoms, or just trees, but Kass didn’t stop to find out. She just ran.

She sprinted through the gloom of night for what seemed like hours, unwilling to look behind her. She didn’t have a plan, or a direction. She just wanted to put as much distance between her and Gameland as she could.

She finally made it out of the woods, jumping out onto an old, cracked road, the asphalt pitted and upturned by plants.

Another figure was on the road, cloaked by the darkness, the moonlight blocked by the thick canopy of trees. Kass spotted it from the corner of her eye, nearly missing it in the inky blackness. She turned on a dime, her eyes wild with fear and madness, and lunged, her hands posed to kill.

Her fingers curled around the figure’s neck, squeezing as hard as she could. She knew it wasn’t a zom, the steps had been too even, and it was confirmed as the flesh resisted and didn’t give way. She drove her knee into the gut of the person, hearing the air rush out of their lungs. The body pitched forward, sucking breath.

But Kass had fought too many zoms to expect this. The figure fought back. It paused only for a moment, shaking off the initial shock, before gripping her wrists and shoving her hard. Kass’ fingers scrapped lines on the skin of his neck as she stumbled back.

She hissed, driven by rage and fear, her eyes wild, and drove at him again. With practice ease, she swatted his fists out of the way with quick palm blocks, holding her ground; despite her feet screaming as more dirt was rubbed into the wounds. Gravel and sand seeped deeper and deeper into the soles of her feet, but Kass pushed on, sending a leopard fist to the figure’s face.

The dark silhouette twisted, pulling his shoulder up to catch the hit, grunting as he grabbed the woman’s other wrist, pressing his thumb into the pressure point. He pulled her forward, driving his other shoulder into her chest, his leg moving to sweep her foot off the ground. He used her momentum to throw her over his shoulder and to the gravel road.

Kass growled and scrambled to get up, but stop as something wet began to drip between her breasts. She panted, glancing down, seeing the small incision in the center of her chest, blood slipping down the slope of her bare cleavage. The tip of a glittering mercury sword was pressed into her skin, pointed straight at her heart, a searing threat.

She snarled at the stranger, glaring daggers up at the shadow, moonlight waning as it dipped down to the West.

Black eyes stared down at her naked body. Hard, sharp, the eyes of a killer, a hunter. A carpet coat hung from his lean shoulders, black hair hanging in front of his eyes, clumping, visibly wet from the rain earlier.

“Don’t move,” he told her with a voice she hadn’t heard in years.

Kass’ body suddenly froze, her blue eyes wide. The wind immediately left her lungs, reality crumbling around her. She could hear her heart beat thudding in her ears, the blood thumping through her veins.

The man’s dark eyes concentrated on her, never wavering for a second as his own body heaved with pants, his tanned skin flushed with exhilaration. He flicked his black hair from his face, lean but by no means hollow, with high, sharp cheekbones on top of an angular jaw with a sharp nose sitting over thin lips that were pursed into a thin line.

But as dawn shed its first few rays of light and the thick canopy trees, Kass still couldn’t be certain.

Her eyes drifted to the sword pointed at her heart, a gleaming instrument of death with a blood groove sloping up to the brass guard with two tell-tale cranes inlayed in silver.

“Tom Imura…?” Her voice was uncertain, wavering as those tow words escaped her lips.

She had heard Tom’s name mentioned by Charlie and the Hammer a few times during the months of torture she endured at Gameland, but she never thought that she would be able to find him so easily.

The tip of the sword was abruptly at her throat.

“Name,” he prompted, his eyes hard, unyielding.

“Tom, please,” Kass panted, her mouth dry and pain seeping deeper into her being. “It’s me.”

“Name,” he demanded harshly.

“Kassandra Jacobson.” She felt so awkward having to give her full name to someone that she had been so close to.

He faltered, his breath stopping as he staggered back, lowering his sword for a moment. His brow rose in surprise before immediately creasing again, his teeth clenching. His lips curled back, his eyes hardening, with rage and pain stirring in their depths. He shifted his stance, his demeanour defensive and aggressive as he pressed the edge of the blade back into the side of her neck.

“That’s impossible,” he snapped, his body tense, nearly shaking. “She’s dead. I was there. So you _can’t_ be her. There’s no way.”

“Tom…” She whispered softly. “Please…”

“_NO!_” He spat, his eyes wild with white-hot furor. “You’re not her!” He bellowed, “She’s dead! Zommed! _GONE!_ You _can’t_ be her! So stop playing his goddamn sick game!”

“This isn’t a joke!” she yelped, holding his intense gaze as his sword continued to press into her skin. With the adrenaline gone, her eyes had softened, but still held a wild and unkempt light within their depths.

“Kassandra died seven years ago on First Night!” Tom bellowed, closing the distance between them in a step, his cold eyes glaring down at her. “You can’t be her! You _CAN’T!_”

Kass continued to hold his gaze, Her eyes glazing over with tears. Her body was beginning to shiver as hypothermia began to creep in and the adrenaline wearing off. The shock of her escape and the horror of killing someone were sinking into her mind, being all too real in this reality. She felt the cold of the morning air on her naked skin, her mind still trying to process the last 6 hours.

The Japanese man continued to stare down at her, his face scrunched up into a scowl, his mouth in a sneer, his jaw set. His entire body was trembling with anger, his eyes blazing as he panted, his chest heaving silently under his carpet coat. He gave a tight shake of his head, feeling his sanity twisting and snapping. His stomach knotted up, dropping down, his black eyes staring down at the woman at the end of his sword.

She had long, silver hair, with blue eyes that could have been pieces of the sky. Her face was square, her nose sharp, with lips that were parted and purple. He knew that face, though the hair colour was lighter, much lighter, but her eyes were still the same.

“Tom…” she whispered softly, slowly reaching up to touch the spine of his blade. “Please, it’s me. I promise.”

He eyed her closely; his jaw slowly relaxing, as the world seemed to slide out from under him and went askew. He felt his breath quicken, and had to stop himself from hyperventilating.

He swallowed hard, the wad of spit in his throat feeling like a huge rock.

But was her. It was Kassandra. Kassandra Jacobson.

Tom’s face softened, his jaw weakening as he light of dawn hit her face, backpedalling as she sat on the gravel, her eyes wide like a frightened doe’s. She turned her head, pushing her hair behind her ear. A tattoo emerged on her skin, printed into the skin behind her ear, a Nordic rune.

Tom was quaking like an aspen at this point, trying to swallow back the permanent lump in his throat. It was no denying it was her. Same eyes, same face, with the tattoo of the Rune _jera_ peaking out from behind her ear.

“No…” he whispered to the wind, his lips trembling and tears welling at the edges of his eyes. “You can’t be here… You died…”

The bounty hunter sheathed his sword, visibly straining to contain his shaking, even as he shook his head. He turned away from her, his breathing heavy and his eyes bulging from shock. He clasped his head in his hands, staring at he ground as he paced down the road, his heart racing.

“You can’t…” he continued, gulping and his mouth dry. He paused, lazily looking up at the sky, tears beginning to slip down his cheeks. “Am… Am I dead?” he asked, slowly turning back to her.

Kass bit her lip, hugging her arm closer to her side. She studied the little rocks that littered the road, unable to really say if either of them were actually alive. Right now, even she was questioning if what she was experiencing now was just her brain dissociating as her final moments passed by. Her voice was dead in her throat, unable to give the bounty hunter any comfort as his world flipped.

“I’m dead, aren’t I? Or am I delirious?” He whirled on his heels, pacing back down the road. He was vibrating now, his head light and the air getting heavier and thicker as his throat tightened. He shook his head again, squeezing his eyes closed, his brows furrowing. More tears stained his cheeks as he tried to remember the events of the day.

It couldn’t be sleep deprivation, he had slept pretty soundly at the way station, and he woke up only a couple of hours ago to head home. Maybe he was had caught something while out in the Ruin, a fever and it was causing him to hallucinate. Or maybe it was heat stroke, the sun had been intense the day before, maybe he had been out too long.

His mind was swirling, trying to wrap around the last twenty minutes. How could Kass be here? Especially when she disappeared all those years ago.

“Tom,” Kass softly called to him, finding her voice again. She slowly got up to her torn feet and took a couple steps to follow him. “I…”

He turned to her and shook his head. His black eyes were glassy with numerous tears; tears that spilled down his cheeks as his breath hitched, sobs being pulled up from his throat.

“Kass, you can’t be here,” he whimpered between pants, his head still shaking from side to side. “You got zommed years ago. We were ambushed and you didn’t come back.”

The sun was peeking over the edge of the horizon, casting a pinkish-orange glow over the forest, casting long shadows across the road. The bounty hunter shook his head again, his heart swelling in his chest.

“No…” He gasped, panic rising in his throat. He had to be delusional.

He took a quick moment to check his wrists and ankles for bites, not seeing anything on the skin. He wasn’t bit.

He squatted down, cradling his head in his hand, and tried not to vomit. Tears streaked through the dirt and the sweat on his cheeks, his being shaking uncontrollably at this point. He swung his head side to side again, his heart sinking into the pit of his belly. Years had passed, years where he had grieved and nights where he couldn’t sleep, and just cried, weeping for her.

Kass didn’t move, too fearful to even reach out and touch him. She didn’t want to dispel his image, fearing the nightmare that might be outside of the illusion.

But seeing Tom in such distress sent her heart to the bottom of her stomach, and maybe into her colon. She felt sick and twisted as he continued to weep, his mind warping around her image.

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. She desperately wanted to reach out and hold him. She desperately wanted to pull him close and kiss his mouth. Years of longing and heartache tore at her chest, clawing at her ribs. She missed him so much, and for so long she thought he was dead, a walker, a member of the un-dead roaming the world.

“I…” She had to collect herself as her breath caught in her throat. “I though they had gotten you… And Benny.” She nearly sobbed at the thought of little Benny, her body shaking worse. Both had taken from her that day, mauled by the un-dead.

Her chest was filled with intense and burning regret and sorrow. She slowly made her way over to him, still hugging herself as her skin started to pale and turn blue. “I wanted to go back to find you, but the others refused to let me go.”

Tom turned to stare at her, his mouth open.

Her lips trembled, tears now streaking down her dirty cheeks. She hid her face with her hands, and shook her head. “But right now, I don’t know if this is real or just some sick delusion.”

She collapsed, sobbing deliriously, her entire being shivering violently as she fell into the bounty hunter’s arms.

The Japanese man fell to his knees with her, his arms wrapping around her instinctively. His face was still limp, his eyes blank and turbulent. The world didn’t seem straight and his brain felt distorted and sick. Tears poured down his cheeks, silent and relentless as his chest spammed each time he breathed.

“Kass…” was all he could manage.

He felt her arms wrap around his neck and he whimpered, flinching as her icy skin touched him. But he squeezed her close, feeling her heart beating in her veins. She felt real enough, but it still didn’t mean that he was still alive. He still didn’t know if he was dead or not.

Kass shivered. She was naked and dirty, bruises littering her white skin. Her hair was matted and tangled, a bit listless in the morning sun. Blood was smeared across her body with mud, with scars scattered from head to toe.

“Kass,” he whispered, sorrow sweeping through him as he buried his face into her shoulder. “Oh God, Kass…”

They sat there for hours, wrapped up in each other’s arms, shaking and sobbing, unable to untangle themselves.

“Kass,” Tom swallowed. “Kassandra, I can’t believe you’re here.” He exhaled, rubbing her bare back. “I spent so long looking for you, so I could put you to rest.”

“I did the same,” she replied, her head on his shoulder, her eyes vacant, cried out of tears. She stared out into the distance, the images unfocused and blury.

“God.” He hugged her closer, feeling some ease somewhere down inside. He had given up on trying to make sense of it, knowing that if he dwelled on it, it would make him sicker.

“Do you think there is pain after death?” Kass asked, numb. Her face held no expression, and her monotonous voice made the question even more disturbing.

It took the samurai a moment to answer. “No… I don’t think so.”

“Then,” she giggled ghoulishly, and creepy smile twisting her lips, “I can’t be dead, because I am in _a lot_ of pain.”

Tom’s brows pulled together, finally looking at her, and his eyes went wide. There were dark circles under her eyes, one still red and bloodshot, looking like it was recovering from a black-eye. Bruises and scrapes ringed her neck, looking fresh, with new scab present. Her fingers were clawed with broken, jagged nails and scars, crescent shaped and slashed, littered her arms.

“Kass,” He gasped. “What the Hell?”

“Later,” she urged, not wanting to remember Gameland, or its tortures.

He nodded. “All right,” he allowed. “But I should get you to town, for medical attention.”

She nodded, getting to her wounded feet.

Tom slapped the dust from his jeans and looked her over, frowning. He unbuckled his carpet coat and handed it to her.

“Better than being naked.”

She smiled and did it up, taking a moment to make sure she was covered. “Okay, lets go.”

With that, they set out North for town.


End file.
